


Fictober Day 1: Ring, feat. Isabela and Nev

by PusillanimousBitch1138



Series: Fictober 2019 [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Blind!OC, F/F, Fictober, Fluff, Marketplace, and it was 12 minutes late, blind!Hawke, fenris mention, fictober day 1, fictober prompts, not-a-proposal, promise ring, pushy merchant, ring, sweet merchant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 01:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PusillanimousBitch1138/pseuds/PusillanimousBitch1138
Summary: Nev gets lost in town and starts talking to some merchants. When she wakes up the next day, Isabela has a surprise for her.





	Fictober Day 1: Ring, feat. Isabela and Nev

It’s busy in the marketplace. Sounds surround them, a cacophony of sources to interpret. Market vendors hawk their wares, people barter, couples talk of plans, parents yell after children, livestock cluck and moo and honk, coin purses jingle. Frankly, it’s a lot. That’s to say nothing of the smells—the smells of body odor, of powdered spices disturbed and entering the air, of fruits and meats and breads, of the livestock, of the smells that accompany city life. People bump against her nearly constantly, and more than once they open their mouths to scold her and cut themselves short, presumably when they realize their folly.

It’s difficult to maneuver, this new city. Fenris had given her very clear and precise instructions how to make her way into the town, had told her of important landmarks she would be able to recognize—the tavern that smells of refuse and is always roaring with drunks and gamblers, the rug vendor whose shrill voice shrieks higher than the others around them, the wobbly stairs that lead down into the alley that smells of chickens.

It had taken her all of half an hour to get lost. And that had been an hour ago.

With a heavy, defeated sigh, she stops and rubs her face. To her near right, she can hear a woman’s voice, pleasant and warm, a fabric merchant advertising her wares. Nev carefully makes her way towards the voice, only managing to jostle two people despite the crowds.

“Pardon me,” she calls above the din.

“—finest silks in—Oh! Hello there. How can I help you?” Nev can hear the smile in the woman’s voice.

Pulling her gauntlets off and tucking them under her arms, Nev puts a smile on her own face. “I’m afraid I need some assistance. I’m dreadfully lost.”

The woman is quiet for a short moment, and when she speaks again, it’s with that familiar tone of realization. “Of course.”

“I’m trying to get to the Siren’s Call. Could you give me directions?”

“Oh… That um. I’m afraid the Siren’s Call is on the far side of town.”

Nev sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I was afraid of that.” _Isabela will be furious. _“Well. No matter. Did you say you sell silks?”

“Oh! Yes! I’ve got a fine collection here. I’ve got fabrics of all types, but my silks are especially lovely.”

Nev smiles and gently reaches down to where the table should be, and her fingers meet fabrics. She runs her hand across the various bolts and feels the way the fabrics glide against her skin. She finds one that’s particularly smooth and cool to the touch. “This one. What color is it?”

The woman coos. “Oohh, an excellent choice, milady. This is one of my favorites. It’s a lovely warm, soft rosy color and sheer. If you’re interested, I have a shawl made from the same material.”

Nev nods. “Might I hold it?”

“Of course, milady.” The merchant shuffles for a moment before a lightweight, smooth fabric is placed in her hands.

Nev runs her hands along the edges of it, feeling the intricate embroidery along the edges, inspects the gentle knotting in the corners. “This feels lovely.”

“The color looks good on you.”

“Oh, it’s not for me.” The feel of Isabela’s hand in hers comes to mind, fills her with warmth. “It’s for my girlfriend. How much?”

The woman coos again. “Girlfriend, huh? A lucky woman. 20 copper.”

Nev nods and reaches into her inner pocket for her purse. “I’m the lucky one.” She chuckles and shakes her head, counting the coins out. “Could you direct me to the nearest tavern, please?”

“Oh, course. It’s a straight shot to your left, about a 10 minutes’ walk. If you reach the guy with the parrots, you’ve gone too far.”

Nev smiles and passes the coin over, tucking the scarf into her coat. “Thank you.” She and Isabela know each other well enough to know that taverns are the best place to reunite. Isabela will find her eventually.

She manages to make it a good 10 steps without attracting anybody’s attention. When she does, they’re a little too insistent for her liking. “You there, scary buff lady! Yes, you, with the white hair, you look like a woman who enjoys fine things in life!”

Nev snorts but meanders over to the sound of his voice. “And what fine things might you have?”

“Ah, even without sight, milady can surely appreciate my fine baubles!” He doesn’t even sound ashamed. “Many things, I’ve got. I’ve got many fine jewels, necklaces that would make any noblewoman the envy of you!”

Nev snorts, memories of her own stint as a noblewoman coming back to mind. “I strike you as the gaudy type, then?”

“Maker, no! My deepest apologies, milady, I mean not to offend!”

His discomfort is funny enough that she waves him off. “I’m not interested in jewelry.” She turns to leave, but his hand catches hers. Resisting the urge to pummel him, she tilts her chin up defensively. “Unhand me.”

“Apologies once more, milady, but… Did I not overhear that you’ve got a… lady love?”

_Of course. Merchants, always sticking their noses into everyone else’s business. _“What of it?”

“Perhaps this special lady deserves a special bauble? Many fine jewels, I have, many. I’ve got a necklace here with a jewel big as your eye and blue as the sea, or I’ve got a pair of earrings shiny as starlight.” He pauses and leans in, his voice lowered. “Or perhaps… a ring?”

“A ring?” Nev raises a brow at him.

“I’ve got quite a few, milady. This one here—” a ring is pressed into her hand, and she brings it into herself to feel the band. “Seven diamonds across the band. You feel there? Middle one is a heart, raised above the others. Band is gold.”

Nev shakes her head, moves to hand it back. “No, thank you.”

“Or this one!” Another ring in her hand. “Antivan silver! A lovely inset emerald!”

“Maker’s hairy balls, _there you are!_” An arm snakes about her waist, making her jump, and she passes the ring back to the merchant. Isabela sighs, hugging her close. “I’ve been looking _everywhere _for you, pet.”

Nev chuckles, her face warming. “Sorry, love. I got turned around.”

“Ah, this is the lady love?”

Nev sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Isabela’s hand tightens around her waist. “What of it?”

“A pair of lovely rings for two lovely ladies, perhaps with marriage on the mind?”

Nev bristles a little and frowns. “No, marriage is _not_ on the mind.” Turning into Isabela’s warmth, she gestures over her shoulder. “Come on, Bela, let’s leave.”

“But—but—”

Nev shoots a scowl in the man’s general direction and puts her arm around Isabela’s shoulders. Isabela seems unperturbed by the interaction, already launching into a full-blown story about her day, but Nev’s mind wanders. ‘_With marriage on the mind.’_ Genevieve would be a liar if she said she’d never thought about asking Isabela to marry her, but she knows her hard stance against it, and though it is more difficult than she’d expected, she respects it. Isabela is a free spirit. Like the sea, she has no master, no owner, no claim to her. But still, the thought lingers. _No. Stop that. _Nev scolds herself her selfishness. Marriage makes no difference.

“_Genevieve_.” Isabela’s voice cuts through her thoughts, pulls her attention to her. “Are you listening?”

“Oh… Sorry, love, no. I was miles away. What were you saying?”

She can feel Isabela’s eyes trailing across her face. “…It’s not important. What were you thinking about?”

_Ah, shit. _Genevieve is good at many things, but lying is not one of them. She scrambles, reaching for something, anything she can say. With a sudden grin, she squeezes the arm around Isabela’s shoulders. “Just thinking about how to give you your present.”

“Ooh, a present? Let’s have it then.”

Nev chuckles and reaches into her coat. She had planned to wait, give it to her later that night, but oh well. Isabela coos when Nev presents the scarf to her. “The lady said it was a rosy color? I dunno. It just feels so nice, I thought you might like it.”

Isabela practically purrs, and there’s a shuffling as she steps away. When she comes back to Nev’s side, she moves Nev’s hand to her waist where the scarf has been tied. “I do indeed, my love. Thank you.”

They make their way back to the ship, carrying carefree and comfortable conversation, their hands on one another’s hips. The rest of the evening passes in easy companionship—drinking, dinner, more drinking, a night spent holding one another, with hands drifting listlessly across bodies and stolen kisses.

Nev wakes late in the day, the cabin filled with warmth. When she reaches across to pull Isabela to her, she finds the bed empty which draws a frown upon her face. Isabela never rises before her. They take it as personal challenges to see who can sleep in the longest.

“Bela?” Nev mumbles. When there is no response, she sighs and sits up. Her hair sticks out at strange angles, but she can’t be bothered to try to flatten it back down. Instead, she reaches for one of Isabela’s scarves kept tied to the headboard and wraps it deftly about her hair.

“Well, don’t you look lovely this morning.”

Nev chuckles, face warming. “Do I? I feel as though a raven has nested in my hair.”

The bed dips under Isabela’s weight as she crawls over towards Nev, and without warning, she straddles her hips. “You always look lovely, my sweet.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s the truth. And that’s partly why I…” Isabela sighs, bringing a concerned frown to Nev’s face. “Oh, no, don’t do that. This isn’t… Piss. I hoped this would go better.”

Nev puts a hand on Isabela’s hip, the other going to her cheek, the movement easy from years of practice. “What is it?”

“I got you something.”

Her brow quirks and she tilts her head. “Oh?”

“It um… Oh. Damn it all.” Isabela takes Nev’s hand and slips something onto her finger. _A ring. _“Now—don’t get carried away. This isn’t—we’re not—_Shit._” She sighs and starts again. “I’m not saying I’m marrying you, Hawke, but… I don’t know. Think of it as a promise? This is me. Telling you I’m always going to be here by your side. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Tears prick at Nev’s eyes and her heart swells in her chest. “I…” Why does her face hurt? Oh… She’s grinning. With an elated giggle, she buries her face in Isabela’s neck, her arms snaking around Isabela’s waist tightly. Isabela squeaks against it but doesn’t resist, her own hands going to Nev’s back. “Thank you,” Nev whispers.

Isabela chuckles softly, placing a kiss to Nev’s bare shoulder. “For better or worse, I love your stupid face.”

“You’re so eloquent, my love.” They both laugh. After a moment, Isabela pulls Nev’s face from her neck and places a warm, languid kiss against her lips. Once they part, foreheads touching, Nev reaches up to brush her knuckles against Isabela’s chin. “I love you, too.”


End file.
